Chapter Four #2
Inside, the bar smelled of leather, whiskey, and sweat.
Dim lights cast long shadows across scarred floorboards.
Every man wore a cowboy hat tilted low, faded denim or a snug T-shirt, boots scuffing as they leaned into pool tables just beyond the stage.
A four-piece band blasted a fast country number, dancers’ boots striking the floor in time to the relentless beat.
“Let’s see about those barstools.” Cole gave her hand a squeeze that sent a thrill to her toes.
They wove between clusters of laughing patrons until they reached the varnished bar, its front lined with a brass footrail. Cole slid two stools toward them and Aftyn perched on one.
A woman with red hair appeared behind the bar, polishing a pint glass, green eyes lighting up. “Cole! Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Siobhan.” He leaned in. “Great to see you. Whatever you have on tap for me.”
He raised an eyebrow at Aftyn.
“White wine, please.”
“Coming right up.” Siobhan set down the glass and turned to pull his beer.
Aftyn watched her go. “She’s really pretty.”
“Married to a good friend.” Cole chuckled. “Liam’s probably on his way.”
Siobhan returned moments later with a slender glass of wine and a frothy amber pint, then came back with his change. Cole waved it off. “Let one of us know if you need anything.”
“Thanks. Oh, this is Aftyn Hutchins.”
Siobhan extended her hand. “Siobhan Flynn. Nice to meet you.”
“Lovely to meet you.” Aftyn shook it. “And what a beautiful name.”
Siobhan laughed. “Thanks. Same to you.”
“Is Liam here?” Cole asked.
“On his way.” A broad grin lit her face before she moved down the bar.
Aftyn swirled her wine. “Liam and Siobhan Flynn. No Irish there.”
“Liam’s nickname for her too.” Cole leaned back. “He’s a damn good man. I’ll introduce you when he gets here.”
“I’d like that.” Aftyn turned on her stool, watching boots stamp and hats bob to the band’s driving rhythm, the bar swelling with laughter and the promise of a good night.
When the band launched into Boot Scootin’ Boogie, an old Brooks and Dunn song, she hopped off her stool.
“I have to get in this one,” she said then pushed through the crowd and got into the line.
****
Cole chuckled as he watched her push through the crowd, her red hair catching the glow of the vintage pendant lights.
She got in line beside a lanky cowboy in a sweat-stained Stetson who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.
Cole’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching.
He shook his head and took a long pull of his beer.
He had no claim on her. But it didn’t look like the cowboy could take a hint.
Aftyn barely noticed him. She and the woman beside her were having too much fun, shoulders bumping as they swayed to the guitar spilling from the stage.
“Hey, Cole.” A familiar voice cut through the noise, and he turned to find Liam settling onto the stool beside him. Cole grinned and shook his hand.
“Good to see you. Haven’t been in lately.”
“You too.” Liam’s crow’s feet deepened. “No beautiful bartender wife to draw you in, I suppose.”
Cole laughed. “Exactly.”
Liam rose as Siobhan leaned across the bar and cupped his face in her hands, kissing him soundly. The patrons along the bar whistled and cheered.
“Not fair,” Cole teased.
Siobhan rolled her eyes, reaching for a glass to polish. “Please. Aftyn is beautiful.”
“We’re not on a date. I just asked her along.”
Siobhan arched an eyebrow. “Does she live in Clifton?”
He shrugged, tracing the edge of the counter. “For now. She’ll be leaving soon.”
“That’s too bad.” Siobhan gave him a sympathetic smile before turning to greet the waiting customers. “You two make a good couple.”
Cole watched her move away, the bustle of patrons rising around him. It didn’t matter how perfectly they might fit together. She’d pack up and go before long, and he’d never see her again.
He took a swig of beer just as a ripple of cheers swept through the bar. Turning, he spotted Grant Hunter striding through the door, broad shoulders leading the way, Jessa’s auburn hair glowing under the lanterns behind him. Landry and Kay Yates followed, Kay’s laughter already dancing in her eyes.
The band’s last chords faded, and Aftyn slid onto the stool beside him, cheeks flushed from the heat of the floor. “Whew.” She bumped his elbow. “What set everyone off?”
Cole nodded toward the door.
Aftyn leaned forward, squinting. Then she sat up straight. “He looks like Grant Hunter.”
“He is.”
Her brow furrowed. “He is what?”
“Grant Hunter.”
She cast a skeptical look around the room. “Pfft. Why on earth would Grant Hunter be in here?” She shook her head as if to clear it.
“Born and raised in Clifton. I’ve known him since grade school.”
She laughed softly, doubt still lingering. “Okay. If you say so.”
Cole pushed back from the bar. “Hold that thought.” He stepped into Grant’s path just as he raised a hand to wave at someone. “Hey, Grant.”
Grant’s face broke into a grin. “Cole! Good to see you, man. How’ve you been?”
“Great.” Cole glanced toward the stage. “You singing tonight?”
“Maybe later. Right now, I just want a table and a cold beer. Come join us when you can.”
“I will.” Cole turned. “This is Aftyn Hutchins.” He nodded toward her. “Aftyn, Grant Hunter.”
Aftyn’s jaw dropped. She stared at Grant, then at Cole, then back at Grant, mouth wide open. Cole leaned over and gently tapped her chin closed.
Grant smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. This is my wife, Jessa, and our good friends Landry and—”
“Kay O’Malley,” Aftyn blurted, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” She caught herself. “I apologize for that.”
“No worries,” Kay said, stepping forward with an easy smile. “It’s Kay Yates now.” Her handshake was firm and welcoming.
Grant touched the brim of his hat. “Grab a table with us if you want.” He steered the group toward a corner bathed in lantern light.
Cole settled back onto his stool, arms folded, laughter bubbling up as he watched Aftyn collect herself.
“I told you,” he said.
Her cheeks glowed. “I had no idea he actually lived here. God, he’s gorgeous.”
Cole shrugged. “I guess.”
She chuckled, eyes sparkling. “You’re handsome too, but he’s even better-looking in person.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I just met Grant Hunter and Kay O’Malley.”
Cole nodded toward her empty glass. “Refill?”
“Are you having another?”
“Sure.” The first beer had gone down easy after a long hot day.
“Then yes.” She slid off the stool. “I need the restroom. Be right back.”
Cole raised his hand across the crowded bar and smiled when Laura Blackstone made her way toward him, blonde ponytail swaying.
“Hey, Cole.” Laura’s voice carried over the music. “What can I get you?”
He ordered two more drinks and swiveled to survey the crowd.
Dewey’s was packed wall to wall, locals mostly, maybe a few tourists mixed in.
On the scuffed dance floor, couples two-stepped beneath string lights while around the pool tables, men in T-shirts and cowboy hats lined up shots, dollar bills tucked under beer bottles.
Cole breathed in the familiar smell of beer and liquor.
This place felt like home. Callie had wrinkled her nose at it.
Too country, she’d said, after her one and only visit, her designer jeans and attitude marking her as an outsider despite being born and raised right here in Clifton.
He should have read the signs earlier. The restless eyes, always scanning the horizon.
But he’d been so captivated by her that he’d ignored every warning, doing anything to keep her except the one thing she demanded: leaving his family’s land for New York City.
He couldn’t imagine it even now. Lost among skyscrapers instead of fields and open pastures.
The weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder the day he’d passed the farm to Cole still felt real.
Callie had never understood that kind of commitment.
Their relationship had been a cycle of departures and returns, each one cutting deeper.
Two years in, she’d packed her sleek suitcases and vanished for months.
He’d taken her back, relief drowning out his pride.
Then barely a year later, another tearful goodbye, another unexpected return.
The last time had been different. Her voice was cold when she laid out the ultimatum over dinner.
New York or nothing. She couldn’t grasp that the soil of his family’s land ran in his veins as surely as blood.
When her taillights finally disappeared down the gravel drive, Cole had known it was final.
The engagement ring still sat in his sock drawer.
If his brothers hadn’t dragged him out of the house after weeks of bourbon-soaked grief, he might never have surfaced. They’d pulled him back into the rhythms of farm life until the drinking stopped and breathing didn’t hurt quite as much.
He glanced toward the hallway where Aftyn had disappeared. She wasn’t here to stay either, just passing through, looking for her sister. But maybe that was exactly what he needed.